Organic Chemistry
by Hitherto11
Summary: Written from Lauren's perspective; ever analytical, often anxious. This character exploration is not canon, though it's intended timeline is just after Bo makes her commitment to Lauren.
1. Chemistry for Beginners

Bo's late. Again. But the mere fact of stating she's late seems to imply that she's sometimes on time - which she rarely is. And by rarely I mean never.

It's okay though, I'm not complaining, I'm really not, this sort of goes with the territory. Territory that's never the same, two days in a row.

And I'm okay waiting. Seriously. I don't mind. She made a commitment - finally - and to me! She made a commitment and that means a lot. I think we both have a clear understanding that Fae life is *way* beyond anything even remotely normal, and for all the twists and turns a serious commitment is nothing to be sneezed at.

_I mean, she could have anyone. Anyone. _

Now that's a daunting thought. My heart sinks at the merest contemplation; I've heard that succubi and incubi will take thralls to serve them. If Bo were to seduce me with her Fae charm…could I feign disapproval? _I blush at my runaway imagination_. I'm getting ahead of myself. In the meantime - I wait…

…And wait. Kenzi breezes by shooting the coolest of glances my way. "A lil' SUMTHIN' while you wait?' she asks. "A little… somethin'-somethin'?" said antagonistically, pouring herself a brimful of wine. I watch the last droplet hang from the bottle mouth before falling like a stone. "Oops!" she exclaims. I chuckle softly and decline. Her juvenile spitefulness is cute in a way, and I remind myself it stems from a deep adoration for Bo. How can I be resentful of that?

Seemingly on cue, the door explodes open and Bo enters. I instinctively rise; her eyes meet mine and she smiles, taking a deep breath. Kenzi wobbles towards her, her impossible heels clickety-clacking all the while. She holds her bowl of wine to her chest; "DUDE, where have you been? Me and Dr. FeelGlum have been waiting for like, weeks."

I'm midway through the process of silently mouthing 'Dr. FeelGlum' when Bo responds; she walks past Kenzi and tosses her jacket aside. "Dood," she says imploringly, "You're being dramatic and shit, I had to bag some nasty leprechauns at the last minute. They're small but they're persistent." Kenzi takes a long slurp of wine and turns her gaze to me.

Just like that, Bo's manner softens. She approaches me delicately, and I'm stricken by her softness, her gentility. If I hadn't witnessed it myself it would be nearly impossible to imagine her as a warrior, a force to be feared. She seems almost timid about me witnessing that other side of her - as if I can't tell the difference between fighting and fighting for a just cause. Doesn't she understand that if I were like her (and I most certainly am not) - but if I were like her - I would be the exact same way? Is it so strange to think we all want justice in this world? Don't we all want what is right and good to prevail? It's why I am became a doctor, after all.

Her hand cups my elbow and she says, softly, that she's sorry she's late. I wave away all concern. She smiles and suggests we get comfortable upstairs. "Goodnight Kenz," she hollers to an empty kitchen. Somewhere, the ponytailed-pixie grumbles under her breath.

When we enter her bedroom she turns to face me, her features soft, maybe even a little nervous. Her smile is a slightly awkward. I like that nothing is assumed, nothing is taken for granted. Sure, I've waited for hours on a nasty sofa with a disgruntled sidekick patrolling as if I were a trespasser; sure, I'd spent some of that waiting time imagining what the rest of the evening would entail; and SURE, the bulk of those imaginings revolved around the delights of love-making. I'm only human of course but I dare not presume. The woman has got to be exhausted after her day, and I'm happy merely to share in her company.

"You look tired," I say, stupidly. Of course she's tired, _dear god, is that the best I can do? _ "What I meant was - you must have had - a long day…Leprechauns, they're…" Bo is undoing the clasps on her bodice. _So much leather_. Where on earth does she shop? I have never seen so much black leather in my life and that's funny because when I was younger I used to go…"

Bo pops the final clasp and sighs with heavy relief. She moves to the edge of the bed where she unzips her boots. "Little buggers. Freud said you couldn't psychoanalyze the irish and I believe it. Those little creeps are beyond reason. And they've got a peculiar sense of humor!" she snorts.

With the boots kicked into a corner of the room only her trousers remain. Without a moment of hesitation she unbuttons the fly and lets them fall to a pile on the floor.

For a solitary, blessed moment she stands there, naked in the half-light of the bedroom - her beauty hits me like a fist-punch square in the chest. I can't speak, let alone breathe.

Bo is unaware of my gawking. Her hands deftly maneuver to undo her braid. Her deep brown locks fall around her face. It's through these waves of hair she finally looks up at me, startled to see me so quiet and still.

"What?" she says, followed by "Come here."

Her arms encircle my waist and she settles into me, snuggly. I hear as she exhales through her nose, relaxed. I let my embrace slip a little, letting my hands move to her shoulders, seeking out the tension and knots. Bo moans with relief while my fingers travel up her neck. "God, how did you know?" she coos, seemingly mystified.

After a moment she pushes away from me, smiling brightly. "I love what you're wearing," she says, "Get rid of it." With a devilish look she bites her lower lip and slithers under the sheets. I promptly obey.

Her body suits me. She's lithe and long and muscular but she's curvy too. _She fits my body like a second skin_. I've bedded women whose bodies have felt harder or harsher, how to describe it? Even Nadia felt sturdy and strong, powerful even, but less sensual than this. _This is the beauty of chemistry_, I tell myself. And I loved Nadia. I thought I loved Nadia. Maybe I wasn't _in love_ with Nadia. Maybe, in the end, I only felt responsible for Nadia.

We had our problems. Nadia was passionate. When I say passionate I mean dramatic. Fiery. Quick to offense. Quick to argue. She hated that I was practical, analytical. She sometimes criticized me for being cold. I often retorted that she was childish. Our friends teased us for being one of those 'old' couples who've been together forever. I often wondered if we were the butt of their private jokes. Were we the thing they dreaded ending up like?

And I'd be lying if I were to say it never occurred to me that Nadia was just sticking around until something better came along. She was young. She was hot. But I was a doctor. I was stable and secure. I offered a lifestyle she hadn't had since she'd moved out of her parent's home.

"Hey, hey…" Bo says, her hand brushing the side of my face. "Where are you?" she asks. Her eyes are searching my face, I can see her concern is genuine.

"I'm here," I sputter, but my eyes are hot with imminent tears.

"Baby," she says. She takes my face in both hands and kisses me deeply. Her intention is clear; her lips embrace my gaping mouth, sucking, her tongue caressing. My distressing thoughts fade from memory and my body's own auto-pilot takes over. Bo's kisses alight my senses - _is this Fae magic?_ No. This is just Bo. _This is chemistry._

Her kisses travel down my neck. Again, my hands seek out her shoulders and resume their massage. She wriggles from my grip and leans on one elbow, saying, "You need to just relax. If you're up to it later I'll still have muscles you can rub out." I cackle with laughter and she seizes the moment; Bo pounces on top of me and we kiss while we're laughing.

I'm kissing her belly and she's breathing deep, slow breaths. I want to ask her if she's done this before; _Stupid question._ Of course she has. _Of course she has_. She's a succubus. _She feeds on sexual energy_. How many women I wonder. How many _men_? _Should I care? Should I even care?_ Bo has committed herself to me. That's all that matters. _Is that all that matters?_ I love women. I pretty strictly only love women. _Has she ever loved a woman before…? Or does she love women in-between loving men?_

The ferocity of my kisses increases - as does Bo's reaction. My palm grazes her nipple, causing her to writhe. I take careful note of her body language and redirect where I concentrate my efforts. My mouth closes on one nipple while my fingers caress the other. My tongue pokes and teases, and I perfectly coordinate a deliberate tweak - Bo groans loudly and arches her back. She grabs my face and kisses me deeply - when i pull away her mouth is still hungry - causing her to try and usurp my position. But I push her shoulder down planting her firmly onto the mattress. She's surprised by my dominance play, _but pleased too, I suspect._

Her bleary eyes lock on mine. She lets her raised arms fall to either side - granting me her full trust.

I delicately slide my hand through her hair and she parts her legs for me. At the first sensation of wetness I feel my lust rise and howl like a mad beast - I want to fuck her wildly, and make her scream with pleasure! She senses my excitement and moves her hips into my hand. I obey her urging and find her opening. She gasps with anticipation - and then I slide two fingers inside. Her lips part with a long, guttural moan. _God how I love this. I LOVE this I love being inside her._ My fingertips explore her, savoring each reaction, each unexpected jerk, every gasp. My own arousal is palpable, hard as a stone and clamoring to make contact with her body. I grab her waist and pull her against me - her legs hungrily embrace me, welcoming the pressure. We brainlessly find a rhythm - _god does she feels this - _every thrust is delicious, as delicious as her hips pulling me into her - all the while I'm blissfully unaware of my own groans.

Suddenly and with some surprise - conscious thought re-enters my brain - _I'm coming - oh god I'm going to come_ - _oh god_ _**NOT YET**_ - I attempt to break away but Bo won't allow it; her eyes glimmer with determination and her hips are unrelenting. I'm startled when she suddenly grabs my posterior - pulling me into her - and the gesture yields inevitable results. I gasp and shudder as waves of electricity shoot through me. I explode with agonizing pleasure, my entire body spasming.

Bo watches me while I climax. I feel so vulnerable - sharing this level of intimacy with her - _does she feel the same way I do…? _I collapse onto her, soaked with sweat, huffing. _I want to tell her that I love her - _My head is resting between her breasts. We're both breathing heavily._ I want to tell her that I love her - is that foolish? Is it too soon? _

_The pleasure is such it's like being trapped inside a daydream. I can reach out with the tendrils of my mind but I can't find the length or limits of my own body. I feel like I'm at the bottom of the ocean. I feel like - like an earring dropped accidentally over the side of a yacht - i bob and weave through the water current, the sunlight fading from view, and I'm disappearing into a deep all-encompassing darkness. But it's not darkness like in a bad way, it's darkness like in nothingness. It's only us here in this singular embrace, my thoughts and the sound of her heart beating. The scent of her hair. Of us. The scent of sex. We are creatures in the realm of the senses - doubt and fear and death shall have no dominion-_

As the waves subside saner thoughts return to me - as does my vigor. I slide down her body, kissing, biting, teasing - and take her desire into my mouth. She buckles immediately, shouting my name. My tongue traveling with deliberate intent, patiently exploring her. Her starts and jolts reward my efforts, and she stifles a scream when my tongue enters her.

I'm teasing her folds of skin, kissing, licking. I can tell their epicenter is demanding release. Bo's entire body is quaking, hanging on the anticipation of my next touch. I drag my tongue over her slowly, savoring how she twists beneath me, and then a quick dart - she jerks - her body grasping desperately for relief.

"…..Lauren," she pants, "Lauren… please…please…."

I happily oblige.

As I take her into my mouth I slide my thumb inside her, just enough to simulate that feeling of just being opened. She reacts with a shudder and howl of pleasure. I moan while holding her in my mouth and the vibrations course through her. I feel her body tighten around my thumb, imploring and resisting me at the same time. I welcome the friction. Her thighs start jerking unsteadily and her moans turn to screams - _she's so close now_ - I match the pace of sucking her to my thumb penetrating and retreating and she comes, hard, screaming and gasping for air. _"Lauren! Lauren!"_

_She grabs me almost violently, her arms like bands of steel holding me against her trembling body. When the last of the shudders have left her - she relaxes her grip and allows herself to sink to that same ocean's bottom, that same nothingness where only she and I exist._

_"Lauren.. I love you."_


	2. Splitting The Atom

_The Date ended abruptly, that's how I remember it. Suddenly and all at once it resolved itself and I was back in my own apartment, vomiting into my very own loo._

It's just before dawn and I have the rare treat of bring the only person awake. Bo is sleepily soundly, probably dreaming, and her cohort is very likely weighted down by several glasses of wine. I feel that old but familiar morning stiffness from a night-long sex marathon….and I couldn't be more pleased with myself. Just thinking about it now I'm grinning like an idiot...

I like this part of the day the best - it's here that I feel closest to my thoughts - the only witness to a world at sleep and unaware I even exist.

Truth be told - traditionally I like this part of a relationship best as well. The initial guesswork of deciphering innuendo and coy restraint is settled. _Mutual interest is confirmed. _Both parties proceed with caution, negotiate and set terms of engagement. The worrying and uncertainty and self-deprecation is done with. _Water under the troll-infested bridge_. Usually. _Usually_ that's how it goes and the big reward for surviving the waiting and drama is _sex_. Lots of wonderful, mind-blowing sex. *Grinning brightly*

This is the hour to be truthful, and so I'll confess - _I'm intimidated by the enormity our situation, Bo._ You're not just some twenty-to-thirty-something up-and-coming academic who's read all the same books I have and looks like tenure material. You're not just someone I can see myself sharing a condo and cats and having dinner with, fucking once a week like clockwork until we split from mutual boredom. _We're not even the same species._ And since we're being honest, my track record as far as committed relationships go is _spotty at best, _human or otherwise.

_I find it funny, well, in a way it's funny, if you look at things from my perspective - knowing me, and I guess that you're still getting to know me but for the sake of this funny thing I'm trying to say I should explain that I haven't dated all that extensively, really. I mean - it wasn't for lack of interest - I was just busy. Mostly. Med-school and that. So, it's just funny to me I've ended up with a succubus. Maybe that's more ironic than it is funny. Well, I still think it's funny._

I don't think it would a stretch your imagination any to discover I used to be a bit shy, and books made far better company than co-eds when I was younger.

I'd made it to grad school before I really started to feel the inequity of my romantic experiences. I suppose by then I'd already deduced my interest in women greatly outweighed men, but I was terrified of that realization and didn't know how to proceed with it. It was around this time I decided I felt most comfortable thinking of myself as bisexual, although admittedly I had nothing to back that theory up. For a time I was satisfied that my self-appointed orientation afforded me both the freedom to choose either or neither, but I knew sooner or later some field study would be positively necessary.

Thankfully I had the luxury of peers whom I respected intellectually, and respected me in turn. My assumption was that the bulk of us were exhausted, broke and lonely sapiosexuals struggling with an endless load of research and course work - a casual snog would probably be deeply appreciated, physically and spiritually. I chose a fellow in genetics I'd been friendly with for years.

He had a mop of curls that frequently toppled over his glasses but aside from that he managed to keep himself clean-shaven. I wouldn't say he was traditionally handsome, but his expression was soft and he smiled a lot. I had the sense he struggled with women and coped by avoiding them,_ just like me_. We'd had a polite, enjoyable dinner, and afterwards we walked and talked and I hadn't even realized he'd walked me home. I stood at my stoop in shock, unprepared to let my evening end in failure.

"I don't want to go home!" I blurted. He looked surprised.

_"What is it you'd like to do?"_

"Can we go to your place?" He smiled and bowed his head a little, perhaps to conceal a blush response, but he took my hand and we started towards his flat.

At his apartment we discovered we were both horrified, and he introduced me to some of his home-brewed mead. We shared a glass between us and awkwardly began kissing. I recall thinking that kissing him was like kissing - some miscellaneous thing, a cup, a spoon, a light fixture. I felt nothing.

His hands were everywhere but nowhere quite long enough. To my surprise I could still feel the bristles from an absent beard against my face; at first it was curious, but then it became distracting. And then it was painful. Combined with eager and slightly rough hands the whole experience was rapidly turning foul. However it wasn't until he shifted more of his weight on top of me and I felt his erection against my leg that I had a sharp and visceral reaction. "WAIT," I said urgently, "Wait. _This is all wrong._"

It took him a moment to gather his senses but he backed off immediately. He looked at me, deeply confused, and began apologizing. I was untwisting my skirt and pushing it back down when the first wave of nausea hit me. "I'm going to be sick.." I mumbled out loud - staggering through piles of papers and books trying to navigate an exit. He trailed behind me with a waste bin, "I'm sorry!" he kept saying.

I don't even remember the walk home, just the tunnel-vision through my hallway to the bathroom. When at last I'd emptied the contents of my stomach I assured myself no further research in this area was required. The evidence was conclusive.

_But it's not like that for Bo._ _Does she have a preference? Even a slight one? How does one enjoy two completely different things equally?_ My mind struggles to discern any two distinct but equal parts, dissecting the nature of Bo's affection in half, and half again and so on until I'm at the molecular level, finally splitting the atom. The resulting explosion washes over me with waves of torment.

_She's had Dyson here, right here, this very bed. _

_He was her first Fae lover - he at least has that distinction. They belong to the same world. _

I have nothing to offer her. There is no unique experience I can provide her. I only love her, and love is never enough by itself.

_Outside I can hear sirens and distant dogs barking. I can hear the hum of car tires lapping up pavement. The sun is finally crawling over the horizon._


	3. Secretum Flos

"YOU WANT TO GO _OUTSIDE_?!"

Bo's laughing, playfully grabbing and tickling me. I manage to grab her and roll on top of her, covering her smile with warm kisses. She naturally reciprocates, and the whole process starts anew.

Just like that, my arousal is stirred yet again. Despite hunger and fatigue, despite dehydration - the passion in my deepest, darkest hollows gathers momentum like a whirlwind until I'm totally lost within it. Before too long Bo is devouring me, again, and I'm helpless in her arms. Quivering, shaking like a leaf, her expert hands cradling me until at last I'm spent. Her kisses trail upwards across my belly, between my breasts, my chin - my mouth.

_Once again I'm imagining that long lost gold and pearl earring, bobbing along the ocean's bottom; a lost treasure hidden forever from the gaze of the sun._

She grazes her thumb across my cheek, "I love how you come."

"I love how you make me come," is all I can think to say.

She sits up, gathering her legs beneath her. _Just like a cat, I think to myself, part of her beauty is her elegance._

"I suppose you're right, though. We do need to eat sometime. And unless you're in the mood for gummy worms or red wine, eating here is out of the question." Her smile is soft, her face relaxed. I pull myself up and sit beside her, taking her face in my hands before one last passionate kiss: "I love you."

In the interest of time we decide to bathe together. It's not until we're in the hot soapy water we realize the flaw in our logic. Our hands have minds of their own, greedily caressing, exploring. Bo leans into my chest with the full weight of her body, her neck tossed back, her mouth not far from my ear, gasping and moaning. I feel her once rigid body go limp from release. After a moment of silence she says "We have got to get the fuck out of this house."

We dress hastily and head downstairs. Kenzi is on the sofa, one arm buried inside a cereal box. She's still in her pajamas. She slowly turns to look at us - she looks like absolute hell.

"Soooooooooo," she begins, "It's nice to see you two are still alive. Of course, I never doubted you were alive from all the screaming and animal noises. But I'm glad to see you can still walk despite the petal-smashing."

Bo instantly turns red from stifling laughter. "We're going to get something to eat - can we bring anything back for you…?"

"Nah, just promise me you guys will take your time. I'm going to sleep while I can."

"Uh, okay… sorry…. bye…"

Kenzi points her forefinger towards the ceiling as she exits the room, "Yo."

Bo faces me and smiles awkwardly, saying nothing.

"Smashing petals?" I ask.

"I don't know where she gets these things."


	4. A Careful Analysis of Obtainable Data

1.)

_We're acting like kids._

The few times we bother to look up from scarfing our food we barely even speak, just smile and giggle. Our waitress already thinks we're strange - four appetizers, two entrees, another shared entree, and now soup. We had to ask her to return the menu twice.

Bo sighs contentedly and leans back in her chair, stretching her shoulders out. "_My god_," she groans, "I was seriously starving." Next she leans in, her elbows on the table and she whispers to me, "Should we order the dinner for four to go?"

Luckily I'm able to swallow my soup instead of spraying it out through my nose. My laughter subsides as her hand playfully covers my hand, her fingertips gently exploring, stroking the length of my fingers. I raise my eyes and meet hers, dark and soulful. And again, _just like that,_ I want to fuck her silly.

Suddenly it's mutually understood that it's time to go, and we start throwing money on the table. The tip, I'm sure, is outrageous. _It's your lucky day, random thai noodle shop... we're in love!_

Outside Bo wraps her arm in mine. We bounce along, occasionally nuzzling, smiling and laughing. _It's strange to me, this giddiness, yet it comes so naturally, so effortlessly. It's pure expression, unspoiled by fear or dread. This is what it's like to just let yourself feel things as they are, as they really are, to trust yourself enough to feel joy._

_"I'm so happy,_" I say, matter-of-factly and slightly astounded.

Our walk grinds to a halt as Bo enfolds me. "Me too," she says.

_We remain this way, lost in the moment. People glide past us, around us. We're immune to their presence. It's just us and the moonlight and.._

"**_Oh my god_**, is that a sex shop?" Bo laughs, "Wow, I heard this area was up and coming, but…"

"Is that some sort of pun?"

"Let's check it out," she says slyly. There's a glimmer in her eye - _and I am baited and hooked._

2.)

Though discrete in appearance from the outside, the 'adult boutique' is lavish and brightly lit inside. The days of skulking about and hanging one's head from embarrassment are over, _thank you internet._

Bo seems amazed by the sheer variety of implements, and is not the least bit shy about handling an item. "Look at this!" she says to me, almost alarmed, "Can you imagine?!" My eyes dart nervously before regarding the day-glo colored monstrosity. _"No, no I can not,"_ I respond.

"Hey," she says, sliding her arm around my waist, "Are you uncomfortable, do you want to leave?"

_"I'm fine,"_ I insist. She pulls me closer, completely unconcerned if other shoppers are watching us. After a long pause I finally manage to sputter in a hushed voice, _"I just don't know why we're here. We don't need…any of these things, do we? I do…satisfy you?"_

"Of course you do," she explains as she puts her hands on my hips. She looks me in the eye, intently, "You are an amazing lover. It's like you can read my mind, you know exactly how to touch me. This has nothing to do with being bored or unsatisfied, it's about trust.." she paused after this, taking a moment to sort out her thoughts. "I trust you, and when we're in bed - _I am fully there, all of me, open to you_ - if that makes sense." Her eyes search my face, I nod in agreement. "Because I love you - and I trust you - it's made me crave other feelings…_things I feel safe exploring with you._"

"Such as?"

She walks me a bit further through the store until we arrive at pair of mannequin thighs bearing an apparatus more commonly described as a strap-on. I bite my lip. Structurally, the design of the harness seems awkward but efficient, and the phallus, to it's credit, isn't a vinyl reproduction of an actual member. This one is sleek, slightly smaller than the average organ it's supposed to represent, and ribbed at its tip. The circumference seems reasonable. Also the color is sensible.

Bo has been watching me, waiting for my reaction. Externally, I appear calm. But inside I'm conflicted. _Why does this appeal to her? Why isn't our regular love-making enough? And why this thing that mimics hetero-sex? Is that what she craves?_

"You want…_to use this_ on me?" I ask, pointedly.

"I'd like you to use it on me."

_Well that certainly changes things._

She leans in and whispers to me, _"I don't know how else to say it, but to just say it, I'd like to feel you inside me, deep inside me, with your arms still around me."_


	5. For William Carlos Williams

We tried running to the car but the downpour was just too heavy. What had first began as a springtime drizzle quickly turned torrential. We ducked into a doorway for shelter.

We were huffing and puffing, our breath steamy and skin wet with rain. Her cleavage - wet from rain. _I'm staring. Oh god, stop that. _Bo smiles at me. That smile. That mouth.

Here I am holding this _thing_, this _fake cock,_ wrapped in pink tissue paper and set in this white box like it's a half-dozen frosted cupcakes. With sprinkles. _Ridiculous_. And we're stranded like this, trapped by the rain, stuck in a doorway - _she, me and it. _

Bo grabs me by the neck and starts kissing me - her hands are cold, her cheeks are cold - but her mouth is warm, warm warm. Her tongue darts inside my mouth and I let our cupcakes fall to the floor. Bo's eyes brighten at the sound of the clumsy thud, and so I breathe into her mouth, "It's fine."

All else is forgotten. Her arms are around my neck and my hands are grabbing her ass, pulling her groin into me. Her arms drop and she starts to undo my belt - a wave of excitement gobsmacks me like tidal wave. "Whoa-ho-ho…hang on a sec…we can't…not outside," I sputter. She's undone my belt, and unzipped my jeans - and her hands are exploring the contents within. My overcoat and the cover of rain are the only thing concealing us from public view. I withdraw, painfully, and face the wall as I redo my pants. She chuckles naughtily.

"Haven't you ever wanted to make love in the rain?" she asks.

"NO," I respond. "I can't say it's ever crossed my mind."

_But it's crossing my mind now! _ I'm soaked, and not from the weather. _I'd love to finish what she started, I'd love to tear open her shirt and palm her breasts, already pert from damp clothes. She knows I'm aching for her. _I try to adjust myself but my pants no longer feel comfortable. Bo is smiling brightly. I gather up my few remaining shreds of restraint and suggest we run for it. She nods and searches for the car keys; I recover our box of cupcakes. _"Go! Now!"_

We're completely drenched by the time we dive into the car. Bo is shivering as she keys up the ignition - meanwhile I fidget with the heat.

After some discussion it's decided we should head to my place instead; I have enough clothes for the both of us, although I'm quite lacking in the black leather department. Nonetheless, my place is closer and this way - dearest Kenzi can sleep in peace.

The car heats up and we settle in for the drive. _I gaze out the rain-speckled window and watch the neon lights of the city reflect and refract against the droplets. Streaks of colored lights float by like lights on a ship, or like christmas, or fireworks on Canada Day… _

Bo's voice breaks the spell I'm in: "I'd love to know where your mind goes - when you're quiet and thinking."

My mouth opens but no words come out; I'm unsure as to how I should respond. "Well just now I was thinking about the the neon lights and raindrops…"

She smiles and asks if I'm seeing rainbows; "Well the light reflected off the droplets just sends the light back toward your eyes, but refractions are dependent on wavelength, so…" Her free hand lands on my knee and travels up my thigh, giving a squeeze. The senses again alight and nerves tingle; _ah yes, how could I forget this throbbing between my legs? Funny that this box is in my lap. It doesn't get any more symbolic than this._

My attention turns to the box and its contents.

_I can't imagine wearing something like this and not feeling silly, like some cheap imitation of a man. Am I supposed to flounder on top of her and pretend I know what I'm doing? How can this thing not be painful? How will I know what she's feeling, how her body is reacting - if I can't feel her myself? It all seems so strange to me, so foreign - I do not envy men, or manly-things. I love the female body for all its delicious curves and slopes… This THING is like putting a tractor on a porsche.._

Bo pulls into my driveway and I'm snatched from my physics-of-penetration daydream. We dash for the door and huddle together while I fumble for my keys.

Once inside I sprint upstairs for towels and dry clothes. I'm so focused I don't realize Bo is behind me. When I whip around with my pile of clothes she's already there. "Oh!" I say with a start. She takes the pile from me, slings one towel over her shoulder and tosses the rest onto the bed. She starts undressing me, button by button, dabbing the rain from my skin until she finally pulls me to sit at the edge of the bed, drying my hair.


	6. Fata Morgana

Sleep falls like a grand piano. As my body recharges itself my subconscious mind begins to wander.

My dreams find me in olden times, a sailor aboard a patchwork shambles of a cocha. In this dream I'm a young man, the youngest and least grizzled of the crew. I'm smaller than the other men and teased for being too lean. A fellow crew member, Alep, mocks that there isn't a belt small enough to hold up my trousers and that I've resorted to using rope instead. I give him a good shove that causes him to stumble a few steps and knock over table - but he only laughs in response. "Don't make me slap that pretty face," he cackles.

These are dubious times, and troubled waters we navigate. From the wide open Ionian Sea we approach the kingdom of two Sicilies and then worse - the narrows of Messina. With this in mind some of the men had begged to stop in Reggio, an opportunity for whores and liquor. "Don't let Samer die a virgin!" was the the last-ditch plea of the crew on that particular day, and explains my black eye and split lip. Iakchos, our captain, insists there are plenty of whores in Rome.

Cutting through the strait saves us at least two days time, not to mention some rougher waters. A trade vessel such as ours will pass without much notice or inquiry and once in Rome - I am free to either leave, or endure the swine-crew slightly longer to France. I haven't yet decided where to start my new life. Captain Iakchos has offered very little in terms of fatherly advice, which is what I'd hoped for when I signed on for this adventure.

He brought goods from Greece and his native Crete for sale and barter. I'd seen him before, his bright blue coat with gold embroidery made him hard to miss. He kept his hair shorn, but his mustache and beard were full of waxy curls. There was a cut on his face from his forehead to his cheek, and another across his nose. Still, he was a handsome man, and I'd gleaned from the way he tossed cubes of sugar to the flock of children that followed him through the markets that he may just be a kind man.

I kept a close eye on him at all hours, timing my father's naps with my opportunity for exploration. I know that he noticed me, hanging behind his infant followers, sometimes half-concealing myself behind a kiosk. The Captain only stayed in town for one night, drinking and feasting with his crew. By midday the next day he would be gone.

That night I lay in bed, twisting, tempted to find the house where the captain was feasting, and beg him to take me with him. I had only dreamed of what it must be like to sail the mighty seas, conquering beasts and seeing the world beyond my own shore. As it was, all life promised me now was decades more of digging for gemstones to sell in my father's shop. I thought of the woman I'd be married to, also from the markets, and our children and their future of digging for rocks.

In the morning my father had tripped and fallen, so I was left to tend the shop alone. My dreams of running away were deflated. I sat with my face sunk into my hands, despondent.

The streets were fairly empty given the hour and I grew concerned: I heard screaming and women crying from down the road, and when I looked to see what was happening I saw several men dragging a body into the street. Since they were the most valuable thing to steal, I grabbed our fire opals and stuffed them into my britches. Then I drew the curtains on my father's shop and ran to join the sparse crowd of onlookers.

Some guards were arguing with the Captain, "You won't be welcome here again," one was saying.

"He's to blame!" The Captain tossed his head in the direction of the innkeeper. "He tried to cheat us!"

They pulled out a second body, a woman, who wasn't wearing all of her clothes. And then a third body, another one of the captain's men.

At spearpoint, the Captain is told to gather his things and leave. He hurled a mouthful of spit at the inn-keep, and staggered over to the two male corpses. The Captain was still wobbly with drink. He stood there for a moment, staring at his deceased sailors, befuddled. Then he gathered the swords and coats from his men and tucked them under his arm. He checked their pockets, and slid the contents into his own coat. Next he tried to grab hold of his largest parcel, the weight of which dragged him off balance - causing him to nearly fall sideways. Without thinking, I ran up to him and took on the parcel. I screamed to his infant-admirers to do the same with the rest of his things. They obeyed without question, a silent acknowledgement of our love for this magnificent character in our meaningless lives.

The Captain's bleary blue eyes strained to focus on mine. He snorted, but said nothing. Finally he turned towards the harbor and started walking, his caravan of children in tow.

Once in sight of the boat his remaining crew came running. We dropped our cargo to the ground and stood mesmerized. The three shirtless men stood at the captain's side screaming and cursing. They were ordered to carry the things we brought back to the ship and did so begrudgingly. The childrenn and I stood off to the side, mouths gaping, watching like fish just pulled from the water.

The captain came over to us, and exhaled a deep breath through his nose. He dug his meaty fist into his pocket, producing a mixture of sugar cubes and coins. He gave them each a coin and let them fight over the sugar. When he got to me he asked how old I was; his breath could kill a horse. "17," I answered, struggling not to wince. He handed me a coat and sword from one of the dead men, and asked if wanted to grow up to be a man. "I'm already a man," I replied. He slapped me across the cheek in a way that nearly spun me around, and he laughed heartily. "Only the sea makes men," he said. He started for the boat, and with no time left to choose - I pulled on the smelly coat and ran to join him.

Now I am here, half-starved and abused, frozen to death at night and roasted alive during the day. My palms have been shredded a dozen times over, blisters on top of blisters. But my shoulders are broader and my arms thicker. Sometimes when the sea is still I look over the side of the boat, wondering if I still look like myself.

The rest of the crew are talking about the upcoming strait, rumored to be cursed by Morgan La Fay and her fairy minions. I listen carefully, straining my ears, but little of what they say makes any sense to me. She's a beautiful woman, they say, a sorceress, but she is spiteful and enjoys the torment of sailors. "She just wants a good man!" Alep exclaims, cupping his groin. Pantelis and Wael laugh, with Pantelis adding "She'll be sending you back then."

Hours pass and the strait becomes visible. We rush the bow and see with our own eyes the twisting and swirling colors. First green, then blue, then green again - then orange. At times the ghostly mist seems to float above the water, showing us objects we can't quite discern - are they rocks or lost ships?

Wael peers through his spyglass "I can't tell! Wait, they're gone! I cannot see! Her trickery blinds me!"

The Captain veers to avoid what he thinks may be rocks on the port side, but nothing materializes. Suspecting devilry he suddenly swerves to avoid rocks on the starboard - again, there's nothing. Pantelis, Alep and Wael run like rats along the ship, trying to locate the focused attack of Morgan La Fay and in doing so, incite panic amongst all of us. When the fog swallows us whole I can only hear the tortured screams of my crew-mates. Knowing that I am the least manly amongst them, I hide between some crates, shivering like a child. In my shaking bloody hand I hold a fire opal from my father's shop; I bring it to my lips and kiss it, "I'm sorry mother, I'm sorry father. I love you. Your worthless son loves you." Hot tears streak down my face and I remember what the Captain told me about drowning; don't struggle, he said, drink as much of the sea as you can. Drink it and it will take you home.

A moment passes and I notice the screaming has stopped. Are we dead? Is this what drowning is like? I'm struck suddenly by the smell of flowers on a warm spring day; when I open my eyes I can see the green mist still envelopes us, but that all is peaceful. When I crawl out from my hiding space I am greeted by the visage of a beautiful woman and her entourage of fairy beastlings. Her eyes pour over my haggard appearance, and not knowing what else to do I fall to my hands and knees. She walks towards me, a carpet of moss blooming under every footstep. When at last she's just before me, she beckons me to stand; "Rise, weary seafarer - and pass in peace." Sobbing, I raise my head and find her and all traces of her vanished; the mists part in a collage of color, and we face open water yet again.

In Rome Captain Iakchos hands me the purse of gold he long promised me. "If I'd given it to you sooner the men would have swindled it away from you. At least in Rome you can let some whores or barkeeps swindle you." We don't don't talk about the Strait of Messina, especially not that I found all of them passed out in pools of their own vomit. We don't mention that I had to take the wheel to keep the ship from slicing it's belly on flagstones. Some things, I've gathered, are best left unspoken.

It's here in Rome I had my first taste of liquor, and lost my first coin to a foolish gamble. It's also to be my first introduction to the pleasures of sin, or so I am told.

Iakchos pats me on the back as Pantelis and Alep lead me away. My legs are no longer working properly; I stagger and swoon on land just as I would on rough waters. I'm finding this phenomenon quite funny, even as my friends exchange some coins with some scantily clad females. When they hand me over I'm still laughing, laughing all the way up a flight of stairs. We pass Wael in the hallway, who is smoking from a nargile with two women wrapped around him. I wave to him but he doesn't seem to recognize me. This makes me sad.

I am brought to a tiny bedroom and the women are undressing me. They are both smiling. They are very pretty. "What a handsome young man you are," says one, "What is your name?"

"I am Samer, what are your names?"

"Is there one of us you find prettier, Samer?" asked as they lay me down on the bed.

Aghast, I respond "You're both very pretty!" The two women whisper to each other, occasionally looking at me, one nods in my direction and then leaves.

"Goodbye!" I chirp cheerily, "It was nice to meet you!"

The woman who stays with me smiles and says, "Aren't you a sweet one. You haven't lost your mother's manners yet. Soon you'll grow a beard and turn into a beast."

"_I'd like to grow a beard,_" I say. I rub my bandaged hands over my smooth face. "Your poor hands," she coos. "Sailing is hard work," I explain. "It's constant work, and it's _dangerous._"

"I'm sure it is, she says." She has started to undress herself.

"_I saw Morgan LaFay_," I say, my voice nervous and cracking. There's a brim of hot sweat forming at my hairline.

"I bet you did. Was she pretty?"

"Very pretty." I crackle.

"Prettier than me?" she smiles.

"_You're both very pretty_."

"Ha! Well, did Morgan do this for you?" With the grace of a swan she mounts and straddles me, her hands running the length of my chest. I feel something primal and uncontrollable coil within me, "_What are you doing?_" I ask with some alarm.

"I am teaching you the joys of being a man," her hand has slid inside my britches, and I am flushed with embarrassment. She slithers alongside me, kissing me while her hand explores. My body reacts _instantly_, and whatever drunkenness I may have been feeling has burnt away like otter fat. She's unbuttoned my britches and exposed me fully. I'm mortified at the sight of my own body. _No one has ever seen it this way beside me,_ _let alone a woman_. I'm choking on my own fear, _unable to ask her to stop_. Her hand has embraced me, _pumping me_, and the pleasure is sweet agony.

"Samer," she says, "I know you are afraid, but every man has a first time. Let me be your first time. I'll show you what do."

Without words I agree, following her instruction to move on top of her, to kiss her gently. Kisses become more harried after starting out gently, I discover, and my hands are drawn by their own will to her breasts. "I would like this to please you too," I say to her, humbly. She smiles and assures me that a good teacher will make a fine student.

When she senses that further instruction would prove too great a strain, she guides me inside her, adding that this part should never be a struggle, and if it is, I've done something wrong. Her words are nearly lost on me, though, as my head is drowning in pleasure. Once inside, it seems, the body knows what else to do. I lift myself up and use the full force of my strength to plunge deeper and deeper into her. Her cries urge me onwards until at last I feel my body can longer contain such joy…

I spring bolt upright with a loud gasp and clutch my pounding heart. Breathing heavily, I look around me. Bo is lying on her side, next to me. "That must have been…some dream," she says with a wicked smile. "I hope it was me you were dreaming about."


	7. The Diving Bell

"What happened?" Wiping the sweat from my brow, still somewhat in shock.

Bo sits up and nuzzles next to me. She's wearing an old university t-shirt of mine. I make the mental note that this look is adorable on her, a nice alternative to the usual boustierre or bodice.

"Well," she begins, "I got you nice and comfy and ready for bed, and then we talked about relaxing with a bottle of wine - I went downstairs to get everything, and at first I couldn't decide which wine, you've got like, a dozen bottles of cab and only one merlot, and I was really in the mood for merlot but I didn't want to take your last one. So I went with a cab but then I thought I really want that merlot! Anyway, after that I couldn't find your opener, I know you have one of those nice, easy to use ones but I have NO CLUE where you keep it. All I could find was a corkscrew, and I haven't used one of those in like, forever. THEN I had to find glasses and of course I didn't know where those were either, which is why there's coffee mugs on the nightstand. I guess what I'm saying is it probably took me a little longer than it should have, and by the time I got back here you were already dozing."

"My god, Bo, why didn't you wake me?"

She makes a crooked smile as if it had been a consideration, "Eh, it had been a long day. We ate all that food - and we really haven't been sleeping. I thought I'd let you recharge those batteries before I completely drain you again."

Her smile is positively wicked when she leans in for a kiss. "So - why don't you tell me about that dream you were having, _hmm_?"

I smile and bow my head. "Very often dreams are visualizations of the anxieties we suffer in our waking life. I think this dream was trying to clear some things up for me."

"It didn't _sound_ like an anxiety dream," she nudges my shoulder. _How embarrassing? Was I groaning? _

"It was a thinly veiled adventure story about isolation and uncertainty. And insecurity."

"Insecurity…?" she says with notable concern.

"Bo, I realize you've only just committed to me, and for right now I don't want anything more than that. I can accept that our lives, separately and together are pretty crazy, and that eventually we'll have some larger issues to talk about. But I don't need those answers right now. I don't, I swear." Bo clutches my hand, patiently nodding in agreement. "Right now, however, I'm discovering that I really didn't give much thought to what it might be like to be in a relationship with a succubus. From the moment I first saw you, I really only saw you as a beautiful woman, and the fact that you're a succubus wasn't even a consideration. It was more of an intellectual curiosity to me, which if you look at it another way was really shitty of me, seeing as though it's a defining characteristic of your identity. I was wrong to overlook it, unintentionally or not." I pause, waiting for her response.

"Are you….dumping me…?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT, no, look…" I take both her hands in mine, "What I'm saying is that I sort of set myself up. I wanted you, and I focused solely on that, even though I knew my feelings were deeper than just lust - I focused solely on being with you without ever thinking of what it might mean, or how I would deal with your Fae nature."

"Except for the Fae bit, isn't that like - every relationship _ever_?"

"Maybe. But when you're in love with a succubus - you can't help but wonder how you'll ever be special to them, what will make you unique from all their other lovers."

She sighs deeply, taking a moment.

"Okay, I can understand that but _for fuck's sake_ Lauren - you're already special to me! I'm not sure how you've missed that big freaking clue?"

"I know how it sounds - but insecurity isn't necessarily rational. You have more experience than me. I just have to accept that."

"_Oh my god, seriously?_ The bulk of my experiences have ended up in a _morgue_, Lauren. It's only been since t_hat first day_ - the day we met - that my life has been different."

**_I am so stupid._** I squeeze my eyes shut, wincing. _Obviously. God, how could I never have thought about it like that? _

"I am so sorry, Bo. I've been really stupid."

She clutches my arm and looks at me with smoldering intensity; "I love you. I am_ in love with you_. That is pretty damn special _and_ unique in my book." I smile, a mixture of happiness and embarrassment.

In an amazing display of physical dexterity - Bo swiftly pins me to the mattress, catching me completely off guard. Straddling me, she pulls of her t-shirt and flings it across the room. I watch in stunned amazement.

Finally, Bo leans in and says, in a soft voice, "Now then, Doctor - I'd really like for you to fuck me."

I sit up and wrap my arms around Bo's waist, gracefully laying her down. I move my full weight on top of her, arms under her shoulder blades, kissing her with a renewed passion. I'm determined to take my time and lavish attention on every inch of her flesh.

She raises her arms above her head, grabbing the bars of my headboard. I take this cue to start kissing her breasts, my tongue outlining their curve, teasing the erogenous zones of the armpit - saving the nipple for last. When at last my mouth makes contact with the areola Bo gasps with excitement. Moist with my saliva, I gently blow on it, causing the nipple to grow tense and expectant. My fingers tease it next, while my mouth works her other breast. Bo unleashes a long, hungry groan, swooning and starting to writhe underneath me.

I return my mouth to greet hers and she whimpers a bit when I suck her lower lip. Her tongue seeks out mine, filling my mouth. While still kissing, her hand blindly seeks out mine and once found, she moves it between her legs. At first contact she moans and shudders with anticipation. I can feel how swollen she's become.

She's blurry-eyed but she wants me to see her - she looks at me longingly, she looks at me in a way that could only be understood as loving. My eyes dart to the box on her nightstand - when I return my glance to her she already knows what I'm thinking.

"Darling, you don't have to. I think I rushed you. We don't need it."

"Will you help me put it on?" She only blinks in agreement.

I lean and stretch and with my fore and middle fingers pull the box onto the mattress. I dump it's contents, sweeping the tissue paper and box to the floor. Bo takes hold of it and proceeds to sit up a little. Kneeling between her legs, she helps me adjust the straps and once fastened adequately, I give my hips a good wiggle. Bo laughs at this. I do too. But the joke fades quickly.

Bo lies back down, her arms outstretched for me. "I'm sorry if I made you feel bad for wanting this," I say.

"It's okay. I'm sorry if I made you feel bad for not wanting this. Does it feel strange?'

"It does, but there's nothing wrong with just trying, right?" Her smile is soft, and for a moment I wonder if she's about to cry.

We resume kissing, and when she feels the moment is right - she helps me guide the phallus inside her. I'm only partly inside when I ask her if everything is okay; "_Yes_," she says urgently, her voice cracking. I move in deeper and she arches her back, expelling a loud "Ah!"

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, darling, yes, don't worry.."

My thrusts at first are timid ones, I glide inside her easily. Before too long I deduce a slightly varied position might be more advantageous, so I grab Bo by the hips and pull her up closer to my thighs. With her pelvis slightly raised, I'm able to enter her more easily, and my rhythm naturally increases.

It's almost an afterthought, the way I suddenly realize both my hands are free to explore. I cup Bo's breasts, both thumbs deliberately grazing her nipples. Her arousal spikes, and her cries grow louder. I'm excited by Bo's pleasure, and find myself having to stave off an impending orgasm. My thrusts are growing with ferocity at this point, and when I feel I only have moments left, i move my thumb to Bo's clitoris. She responds immediately, and within seconds we are climaxing in unison.

A few final instinctual thrusts and I collapse on her, gasping for air.

Don't struggle when drowning, swallow the sea.


	8. Solve et Coagula

"Full fathom five thy father lies;

of his bones are coral-made;

and those are pearls that were his eyes:

Nothing in him that doth fade,

but does suffer a sea- change

into something rich and strange."

_ Shakespeare, The Tempest_

Bo's head rests peacefully in the crux of my arm. There's no finer feeling than this. Love-making can be many things; it can just as easily be sad as it can be joyful. But the comfort that comes afterwards - when you and your lover have thoroughly exhausted each other and can only lay helplessly in one another's arms - is one of the greatest pleasures life has to offer. _It's almost spiritual_. Of course, biologically I understand what is happening. Science tells me this is merely the afterglow from an adrenaline-fueled hormonal cocktail. _However I feel it's in these tiny stolen moments the heart experiences its greatest clarity._

Her hair smells like flowers. Lilac perhaps. I am thoroughly attuned to the smell of her. _Pheromones? Perhaps._ I feel perverse inhaling her, her scent is a drug. _She is a well that can't run dry and my thirst is inexhaustible._

Her arm is draped languidly across my midsection. I can feel the warmth of her breath on my chest; occasionally, I feel the tickle of her eyelashes.

Before allowing the need for sleep to overcome her, Bo insisted we discuss our recent dalliance with man-made appendages of the sexual variety. She felt it necessary that I understand that her desire wasn't born from any shortcomings on my part; _oddly, I'd never really believed that it was_ but rather - an element of her bisexuality. Much to my surprise, her reasoning was beyond anything I could have imagined on my own. She said that the path of unaligned Fae has been rewarding, but that the frequent life-or-death situations she's so often thrust into take a toll on her will. She said she finds it exhausting to be indomitable and in control all of the time, and that it's soothing to her to submit to someone else. I found this notion to be rather bizarre, _yet it makes sense in a way._ It makes sense that she would find pleasure in relinquishing control to a trusted lover.

There was another intriguing comment she'd made, one that I've been mulling over for a good hour now; regarding being penetrated, she said, _"you may not come from it, but it's the sort of feeling that, I don't know, makes your eyes water, you know?"_

No, Bo. I don't know.

When she begins to stir I greet her with a kiss. She drowsily pulls me on top of her, her arms encircling me. We remain this way for quite some time, kissing contentedly.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I contemplate whether this recent experience has brought us closer together. There's something different in the way she kisses me..or am I the one who is different? Before I can answer, Bo slides her knee between my legs, kick-starting my arousal. She takes advantage of my shivering to flip me onto my back, jaw gaping, arms open, exposed._ I am lost in love._

She's licking my belly when it occurs to me that there is something - there is an unique experience I can give her - _and yet I hesitate. _Why? _Is it fear? _ What am I afraid of? Isn't this - _the ideal circumstance? _

Her fingers are teasing me, impeding my ability to concentrate. When she enters me I decide, rather hastily, that Bo should be my first. My heart starts pounding and I can practically feel it in my throat. _I'm nervous. Why? _My face is flushed and hot.

I interrupt her; "Bo, Bo….wait..."

She pauses, half-concerned.

I reach out for the strap-on but it's just beyond me. Bo watches me, doing nothing. After an uncomfortable pause she says, "Really?"

"Yes," I say, my body now covered in a cold sweat.

There's a pensive look on her face when she leans in to kiss me. As she prepares herself, my mind hurtles conflicting thoughts at me; I squeeze my eyes tight in an attempt to quiet my anxiety. _What am I afraid of?_ I dissect my fear and it's none of the superficial things I use as a defense or excuse. _My fear is that Bo and I are doomed, we are doomed to fail, she will, somehow, break my heart into a thousand pieces. I know this and yet - is this worth it?_

Bo moves between my legs, her arms wrapped around my thighs, caressing them. She's smiling. "I love you," she says, kissing my knee.

"I love you," I breathe, eyes wide and expectant.

She enters me, gently at first, enough for me to sample the pain, and then a hard push. The pain is acute, and for a moment I think it's more than I can stand. My body suddenly feels like it's radiating heat, blistering with heat. Bo settles in, planting her hands firmly at my sides. Her thrusts are even and each one is agonizing. I fight the urge to beg her to stop, knowing that technically, my body will eventually adjust and the intensity will subside. I escape to a place in my mind and it's there I examine the reality of what's happening. My eyes are watering.

Bo leans in to kiss me, letting her breasts drag against mine. Its a sensation that immediately sends shivers through my entire body, even to the parts currently on fire. As Bo's rhythm intensifies the pain at last becomes more bearable. I can tell that my body is trying to orgasm but the experience is too new and too strange, it doesn't know yet know how to find pleasure in this.

"Baby," Bo says, breathing deeply and holding back, "….soon?"

I grab her biceps and tell her to let herself come.

Her shivers are rough and her cries desperate, her hair is damp with sweat. She retreats from me and falls to my side, smiling wide. "Wow," is all she says. We kiss deeply and I cling to her body, burying my face in her chest.

"Is that..blood? Oh babe I think I broke a blood vessel…" She leaves our embrace to get a better glimpse.

I hear the change in her voice, the pitch goes up a notch. She turns to face me, mortified, her mouth hanging open.


	9. Metamorphose

The off-white vinyl protuberance is hardly stained, by any means. There's just enough blood, primarily in the grooves of ribbing, to be suspicious. "Lauren.." Bo rasps, her thoughts trailing off.

I sit up to survey that damage for myself.

The stain is about 6 centimeters in diameter - not bad, I think to myself - ever since I read _The Bell Jar_ in high school I'd had nightmares about hemorrhaging, my very special _evening d'amour_ concluding with an ambulance ride. Sitting is slightly uncomfortable, so I slide from the mattress and exit to my en suite. Strangely enough, standing is also slightly uncomfortable. _ For whatever reason my thoughts drift to the phenomenon of phantom limb syndrome; some part of me, a part I can't see, is irrevocably changed, I can only feel it, my senses can outline the affected area…_

Bo wrestles herself out of the strap-on and sprints to my side. "Lauren.." she says again, her mouth hanging open in shock. I turn to look at her, my face expressionless.

Bo takes my face in both hands, caressing one ear with her thumb. She looks as if she's on the verge of tears. I close my eyes, feeling faint from emotion and suddenly very cold.

"You should, umm…" she opens my medicine cabinet and fidgets with a few bottles, "…take a few ibuprofen, and…._a hot bath_," she dashes to the tub and starts running water. When it's finally hot enough, she pulls the stopper and let's the tub fill.

After swallowing my pills Bo gently takes me by the elbow and guides me to the bath. She folds her knees underneath her and sits beside the tub. The heat stings at first, and there's a tiny blossom of blood in the water. It quickly dissipates, just as the soreness surrenders to the comfort of warmth. I lean back and rest my head on the brim of the tub, exhaling deeply through my nose. I look to Bo and ask her if she's okay.

"AM I OK?" she excitedly blurts, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, that was insensitive. But that's what I should be asking **you**. _Are you okay?"_

"Well, yes, actually, I'm fine."

There's a long pause and I can tell Bo wants to hurl all sorts of questions at me. I want to break the ice but it's a struggle to figure out what I want to say.

Her arm is slung over the side of the tub and her fingertips are dancing in the water. She smiles at me, softly. It makes me want to cry. "I love you, Bo."

"Darling," she sighs, "I love you - but why didn't you tell me?"

I exhale deeply, trying to steady my throbbing heart, "I don't know. It wasn't a planned thing, I didn't plan on it. At first I'd just assumed we'd only be using that thing on you, but listening to you talk about it, how it made you feel, I felt happy for you. I was happy that I could do that for you, so why would I want to deprive you of the same?"

Bo squeezes my hand tightly.

"And then, you know, all this time I've been so tormented by what I could possibly have to offer you when - let's face it - I'm not your first lover and I'm certainly not going to be your last. And I know, Bo, that your intentions are golden and that you've committed to me, I get all that and I believe it just like it's carved in stone. But the reality is that you'll need to feed off of others. Intellectually I can understand that process is fairly impersonal but on another level - well, I wish things could be different, you know?" I'm crying now, without even realizing it, tears are flowing of their own volition. Bo moves in to hug me and I grab onto her, holding her and crying.

_God dammit is this some sort of hormonal surge? _

When at last I've calmed down, Bo releases me, and resumes her seat. After another lengthy pause I continue, this time what I have to say is easier; "Besides, I wanted it to be you. I've never been in love like this before, I couldn't have asked for anyone better or more deserving.."

"Oh Lauren…"

"I just hope it's not a burden to you Bo. I hope it's not too much, or that it'll scare you away.."

"Lauren please… I… don't know what to say other than I'm honored. It's not a burden. I just wish you'd said something, I would have been …a bit gentler. We could have made it a special night," she frets.

"Special how!" I chuckle, maybe inappropriately, "With like.. candles and Jack Daniels and some Led Zeppelin?"

"Lauren don't be mean… _It's special to me._ Yeah, I probably would have been a little intimidated if you'd just told me outright, but that's because I know what it's like, and I would want it to be good for you. I'd want it to be everything it's supposed to be."

"It was, Bo." I rest my hand on hers, assuring her.

"I really just wish I'd been a bit gentler…I was so turned-on, and I thought you were too…_oh god_," she slumps her head and when she raises it, she has an awkward crooked smile.

"…I really enjoyed watching you orgasm."

Her face is tender. Her eyes study me - what is she looking for? She breaks the silence by asking me how I'm feeling. "Better," I say. She tells me that I might be sore for a day or two, but that the ibuprofen will help.

"Thank you, Dr. Bo…" I say smugly.

She crinkles her nose and splashes bath water at me, "Ok, smartass!" she says, laughing.


	10. At First, And Then

1.)

Bo tosses her keys onto the kitchen table, barely able to muster concern when they skitter off the side and onto the floor. The noise arouses Kenzi's attention and she pokes her head up over the back of the sofa. "Hey there," she says, cautiously observing Bo's mood.

"Hey," Bo exhales, seemingly exhausted. She's pouring herself a glass of wine. Kenzi comes prancing to the kitchen, empty glass in hand. Bo pours without question and then leans back against the counter. "What's up with my bff? Dr. Hotpants didn't pull any shenanigans, did she?"

Bo's eyes are fixated on the floor. It takes her a moment to even hear Kenzi. "What? I'm sorry. It's been a long night. Two nights. How long has it been…" she trails off, not expecting an actual answer.

"Bo, what the fuck is going on? Are you okay?" queries the sidekick, alarmed and half-lit.

"Kenz - do you remember your _first_?" Kenzi's eyes grow wide as she swallows a gulp of wine. "Well, yeah, of course.."

"Did you love him?"

"I guess. I mean, sort of. Not really. Not at all, actually. I wanted to love him. I tried to love him. I think he thought he loved me, and that seemed good enough, you know?"

"Do you still think about him?"

"Sometimes. I heard he got married after he was released from prison, and you know, good luck and all that."

"So in a way - you still care…"

"In a really really super-vague sorta way yeah, I still care as in I hope he doesn't get gored by a moose or hit by a bus, stuff like that." Bo shoots her a look and for the first time there's a faint hint of a smile.

"Why are you asking about this stuff?"

"I don't know. It's just on my mind. Like, not everyone has the luxury of being in love that first time, you know? But regardless, that person ends up being this…landmark in your life, whether you want them to be or not."

"I don't think kids are really thinking about landmarks when they're gettin' it on, know what I'm saying?"

"Exactly, It's usually an impulsive thing." Bo refills her glass. Kenzi is two sips behind her. She continues, "Have you ever wished it was someone else?"

Kenzi takes a moment to consider this, her mouth in a wide frown. "I dunno, it's hard to say. At the time, no. But I think I was too young to really understand what love was, or what it could be like. I just knew that I had _a bangin' bod_ that guys wanted, and I figured that's just how life was." Bo shakes her head in acknowledgement. "I mean if I'd waited, if I'd waited for that perfect guy, _well!_" she huffs sarcastically, "I'd probably still be a virgin, _know what I'm sayin'_?"

A solemn look comes over Bo's face. "I do know what you're saying. That perfect person, perfect time and perfect place rarely line up. You make the best choice you can with what you've got that's available and just…hope for the best. You really don't think about how it's a permanent thing…it's done and that's it. And then you find yourself five or ten years later, maybe with someone you really love, and wishing you'd waited."

"Yeah but," Kenzi pauses to take another swig, "You can never know totally for sure. What you want changes over time, you know? And it depends whether it's a big deal to you or not. For me, virginity was something to get rid of, I wasn't hoping for wedding bells."

Bo silently contemplates her afternoon with Lauren; How she changed the sheets, lit candles, brought wine up to the room - all while Lauren sat in her bath. A grand surprise it was - Lauren seemed genuinely touched. They made love again, _and again_ - without the aid of implements. Lauren's body was still tender, and she remarked that orgasming so soon was slightly uncomfortable. After that revelation they simply laid together, kissing and caressing. Bo remembered feeling almost befuddled by her own joy. As Lauren slept in her arms Bo marveled at her feelings of compassion and connectedness. It wasn't just love anymore. Something _was_ different.

_"It's a bond,"_ Bo says out loud, unintentionally.

Kenzi had been hanging on to Bo's next words and was relieved when they finally came. "Yeah, I suppose it is. That's a good word for it, _a little strong in my opinion_ but yeah. Bond works."

2.)

I rub my eyes and try the microscope again. More dead cultures. No! Half-dead cultures. I move the dish into a second pile before I realize it's useless as a control group. Then I move it back to the pile filled with all the other dead cultures.

I rub my eyes again, this time in frustration. So much work wasted. Well, technically wasted. It's been an incredible week.

Drumming my fingers on the desk I find I lack the will to continue working. I'm restless. My mind won't cooperate and I can't focus. When I try and force myself to concentrate, I can hold a thought for a moment before it dissipates and transforms into…Bo's kisses, or her hands on me… And if I allow those thoughts to persist, well then, nothing gets done. Hours go by and I'm floating in a daydream.

I can practically still feel Bo on me, her weight, her grip. _Her scent - is in every room of this house._ Literally or figuratively? I can't tell but I can smell her everywhere I go, the kitchen - the bedroom. If I didn't absolutely love it - it would drive me mad.

And then there's this dull ache inside me - another memory of her. I fantasize about her body and my muscles - tingle, they twitch - like butterflies in the stomach - _but different_. This dull ache twinges inside me and_ it's her, it's so her. She has loved me like no one else ever has. I think of her perfect body, glistening with sweat as she heaves inside me - her passion devouring us both, and my body on the verge of collapsing into ash…_

I rest my head on my desk and stare at the floor, eyes wide. Sighing heavily, I commit to a wasted evening spent alone, starved of love counting the hours until I can be with her again.

=end=


End file.
